


I Have an Irrational Fear of My Closet.

by WillowWrites



Category: Closet - Fandom, GHOST - Fandom, Horror - Fandom, OP - Fandom, Original - Fandom
Genre: Ghost in closet, Haunting, Horror, Other, Scary, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 21:56:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1957536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowWrites/pseuds/WillowWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A haunting starting from my closet and spreading out to slowly consume my life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have an Irrational Fear of My Closet.

I have an irrational fear of my closet. And it's spreading.  
It's one with the sliding doors. The doors are actually mirrors, a fancy little design the creators must've come up with. Inside held shelves, some old toys I'd never touch again, Old clothes that belonged to me and other members of my family, and a few extra blankets. Nothing too scary.

The closet never used to scare me. It used to be my favourite place to hide when I was little. I'd go inside and cover myself in the blankets, and use the space to hide from the world. It was dark, which I love, It was tight, and cozy. I would often bring in a light to read whilst in there. It was my space. It was.

The closet didn't scare me till, it actually became, well... mine. I used to have another room in the house, and that closet was nice too, but it wasn't the same as this one in the basement. When it wasn't mine, it was safe, it was a sanctuary. So I really don't know what happened.

Once I attained the room I'm in now, I was 17, and stopped using the closet to hide. The whole room was mostly mine. The computer remained in another section of this rather large room. I never used the closet to hang up my clothes, or to put stuff away, but some how some odds and ends would find their way in there.

One day, I'm sitting on my bed reading, my father on the computer and few feet away. The sounds of the virtual slot machines, his winnings and losses making up all the noise in the room. It's otherwise quiet. It was until, one of the doors to the closet made a little bang. Quiet, but noticeable. My dad shrugged it off as a mouse, or the house settling, but it was my room, so I got up off my bed and wandered over to the closet to see... nothing. Maybe he was right.

Months into me owning this room, there was something about this closet... I didn't like it. I often had day dreams of a monster coming out to get me and I would just narrowly avoid it by being quick and evasive. 

The computer was taken out of my room. The room was now all mine.

The small singular taps persist. About three or four a day. Nothing louder than a light tap on the door. But I knew by this time that it wasn't a mouse tapping on the same door every single day. But it's not a concern of the parents.

About a year into having the room all mine, I started having nightmares. I'd never had nightmares before. Not really. But almost every night I would startle myself awake. I'd dream that the darkness came out of the closet to get me. Some nights I'd escape it. Some nights It'd get me and everything would go dark. Some nights the darkness got my dog. I'd always wake up scared, heart racing and sweating. I once heard that when you wake up in the middle of the night, there's a very good chance that someone was watching you. I'm now afraid of the dark.

The taps continued, more and more, and I began to ignore it. The taps stopped bothering me all together. I'd start sitting here with my headphones in, listening to music, watching a movie, or to simply drown out sound in order to read. Sometimes I wouldn't feel like wearing headphones, so I'd simply ignore the taps. But they started becoming impossible to ignore. One tap. Two taps. Three taps. Four taps, five. All in a row. None louder than usual, but just consistent. Until it happened. The glass cracked. 

No one believed me that the glass cracked on it's own. My family thought I was having some teenaged angst-y problem, got angry and threw something. They were all willing to look the other way so I could solve my problems in peace. But I think I need help. I'm afraid to go to sleep. I'm afraid of the dark. I'm afraid of it getting me, I don't even know what “It” is. I'm afraid of my closet.

I'd come home one day to find the closet door unhinged. Derailed off it's track that had once let it slide so smoothly. Just the one door. The one with the crack. I run upstairs to ask what had happened. No one knew. “must have been the ghosts!” they joked. I didn't find it funny. I found it terrifying. Whatever was in the darkness was worst than a ghost. The closet door wouldn't close anymore. Always open.

I'd constantly look over to the open part of my closet, just to make sure that nothing was staring back. It was pure black. I knew something was. It was hungry. It wanted out. It wanted me. 

I was nineteen at this point. Was finished high school and looking for a job. I was rarely home, was out with friends, at a bar, or doing some sketchy teenaged hooliganism in a park. But when I was home, I was in my room. I enjoyed the danger, secretly, I enjoyed knowing something was watching me. It felt like I was giving the ultimate “Fuck you” To whatever was there when I had friends over, or had boys over that I was fooling around with. In my bed. Where it could see us. I felt like I was winning a battle I knew I couldn't win. I always slept facing the closet. If it showed its face. I wanted to see it.

One night, I'm alone in my bed. I'm sleeping soundly, no dreams, no nightmares, just sleep. I'm awoken by a loud crash from inside my closet. The door fell and cracked even more. The bang was loud enough to wake me up, along with most people in my house. However everyone else just took it as a false awakening, rolled over and back to sleep they went. I started to cry. My eyes were adjusted to the dark well enough to see everything, except the entire closet. It was still pitch black. The blackness was spreading out. I was crying and too afraid to move. I didn't know what to do. I thought that was it. The darkness was going to get me. It was going to swallow me whole. Would it be death, or worse than? 

The darkness was about to engulf me whole, when I looked away and noticed the sudden light from outside. Being in the basement the light only hits in the early morning. I looked around my room to see it bright and lit up from the early morning sun. The darkness.. the blackness was gone. I mustered the courage to get up, tears still rolling down my eyes. I walk over, step on the door to get close and see that the entire ceiling in my closet had collapsed. Pieces scattered everywhere in that immediate area. I hear noises from the kitchen, and go up to see my dad standing there. I tell him what had happened, and he comes down to check. He's stumped.

I started to fantasize about spending time away from the house. Spending nights at my friends, spending nights at my moms, even though I hate going to her house. Everything felt necessary to get away from here. My room was becoming hell. My mind was taking a beating. I spent a lot of time out of my room. Most was spent in the kitchen and in the TV room, even though I don't watch TV. I only came to my room to sleep. Often times I spent nights in the TV room.

This lasted till I had a lot of family move in, and the only space that was mine now, was my room... I was trapped.

The nightmares continued. My nights were becoming more and more hectic. I regretted sleep. Bed at 5a.m awake at 9a.m. It was the only thing that felt safe. As minimal sleep as possible to ensure my survival. I could still see the darkness in my closet sometimes. So I knew it was there. Watching me. Taunting me. It hated me. I started to hate me too. I became depressed due to lack of sleep and the blackness fucking with my head. Almost wishing the blackness would come out of the closet and take me away. 

I once had a nightmare about being in the bathroom, right on the other side of the wall in my room. Right on the other side of my closet. I was in the bathroom going to the bathroom, and one by one, all the lights went out. All five lights magically turned off, until it was just me and the darkness left. The blackness. Until I felt everything tingly, and I didn't think I was there anymore. Nothing but the blackness. Then the eyes in the mirror. Not cliche red eyes. Black eyes. Black eyes, in the black room. Impossible to notice. But they were there. They were there.

I always woke up from those nightmares screaming and crying. I hated sleep even more. Especially after those nightmares actually happened. I walked into the bathroom one night, turned the handle. Locked the door. Turned around, and one by one, every single one of the five lights burst. I started to silently cry. Slowly walked into the laundry room which was in the other half of the bathroom. Stepping on a few pieces of light bulb glass cutting my feet, crying harder the more I bumped into things that I didn't think should be there. Finally making it to the laundry room, pulling on the rope to turn on the swinging light... and it breaks. The rope just snaps. I'm trapped. Crying on the floor. Bleeding. In the blackness.

Someone picks the lock from the outside. Simple job, just need to insert a pointy object in the hole. They find me in the laundry room, curled in a ball. Crying, lying in a few little pools of blood from my feet. I'm not sure who it was that opened the door. Because they just ran, I guess to grab my dad, because he came back to grab me and take me to my bed to check out my injuries. I was overall fine. No stitched necessary, just some disinfectant. I vowed I'd never go in that bathroom again. And since that incident, I've been becoming more and more afraid of mirrors as well.

I was twenty when this next part happened. It was time for my brothers graduation. My mom came to town to see him all fancied up and ready to move from his middle school to the high school. I decided. Just to get away for a little while, that I'd spend the week with her in the hotel. Didn't matter that it was fifteen minutes from my house. It was away from my house. And that was the point.

The hotel room was nice. Two beds, 40'' TV, bible in the drawer, blah blah blah. Then I noticed, the closet. It's made of glass, like a mirror. Like mine. My heart sank. I couldn't get away. I didn't feel that overwhelming dread as I did with my closet though, this one just felt like a closet.

On the Thursday my mother and I attended my little brothers graduation. We had fun, joked around, afterwards, we had gone out for a couple drinks. When it was time to head back to the hotel, we were both happily buzzed. My brother was joining us in the room in the morning, so we were going to ge things a little tidied up for his arrival. We get back to the room, tap the key card, and turn on the light. The closet door is cracked open, inside, I could see nothing but black. It found me. The dread was back. The fear, the agony, the depression. Everything flooded back. I thought I was going to die. I played it off as nothing was wrong, but just decided to go to sleep instead of clean. Maybe if the light was on while I went to sleep, I'd be okay. I was wrong.

That night I had another nightmare. I was walking in my room, but the floor was just water. Hands rushing out trying to grab me. Having no where to run I jump on my bed. The hands shaking my bed, I look down, the floor covered in water which leads to blackness. Some hands reaching up onto the bed. Trying to find me. I evade most of them, but one catches my leg. Which leads others to find me. Before I know it, I'm pinned to the bed. I hear rumbling from my closet, I whip my head up expecting the worst. The closet exploded open, the wall, the doors, both just fall to the ground. Blackness surrounds the room. Everything feels evil. I thought I'd died. I thought I was the blackness now. I jolt awake, and look around. My mom sleeping on the other bed. I stand up. Look over that the closet, wiping sweat from my brow. It's closed. For now.

That Sunday my dad picks me up to take me home. The car ride is mostly silent, other than the, “How was your time?” questions. Then one thing my dad said caught my attention, he told me to brace myself, and that my room was kind of messy. I laughed knowing that my room was always in a mess. But he wouldn't tell me anymore than that. So I'd have to see when I get home.

We get home, and I just make a run for my room, I had to see the mess my living quarters were in, if by this point we could call it living. I open my door and I stopped dead. A few towels on the floor cleaning up water. The wall to my closet, gone. Doors to my closet, gone. Water was in places the towels were not. My heart was pounding. I had just dreamt this. This is the aftermath of my dream.

My dad explained to me that a pipe had burst while I was away. It broke the wall which alerted the people in my house of the problem. The doors had probably fallen over from the water flow. They fixed the pipe and I'd be able to sleep in my room that night if I wanted to. Did I though?

I stood in my room, just looking at the closet... or what used to be a closet, not just a hole in the wall. I felt nothing. No fear. No depression. Nothing. There was no closet anymore. There was no blackness anymore. I thought I was safe now.

Two months later. The tapping is gone, the blackness isn't here. I'm still a little afraid of the dark, but getting progressively better. Mirrors don't bother me, really at all now. The nightmares immediately stopped. My room is mine again. Believe it or not, this is all a true story. It really happened to me over the course of the past two years. If you don't want to believe me that's fine. That up to you. Every time you pass by a closet, I don't expect you to check for blackness. That's a ridiculous task, isn't it? I do it. Maybe just to scare myself. Maybe to keep myself safe. But be careful if you do check; what would you do if you saw the blackness? Or worse, if it saw you?  
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to use my bathroom.

I have an irrational fear of closets.


End file.
